Everything Happens for a Reason
by clicketykeys
Summary: LS Sith Warrior Jerusha Yoh doesn't particularly like Captain Malavai Quinn. But as part of a small team on a small ship, it becomes more and more difficult to avoid him...
1. An Unlikely Conversation

**Scene 1: An Uncomfortable Conversation**

* * *

Sitting in her cabin aboard the _Revenge_, the feared Sith warrior Jerusha Yoh carefully examined each component of her well-worn armor, checking for any pieces that needed to be repaired. Darth Baras had ordered them to Tatooine, and the jawas who lived on that planet were renowned for their mechanical skills. She heard the engines settling into a lower register, gearing up for the jump to hyperspace. A moment later, the sublight drives dropped out, and they cruised along in near-silence.

The alert on her comm panel began to flash, and she looked over at it with a slight frown. Three quick blinks, then a pause, repeated. Drat – that meant that it wasn't a message, but someone was waiting for her to respond. Sighing, she stood and walked over, looking more closely at the display. The signal had come from the bridge. _Double drat._ She let out another sigh.

After taking a moment to compose herself, she touched her fingers to the panel. "Yes, Captain? Is everything all right?"

The clarity of the ship's comm system seemed to emphasize the crisp, precise tones of the officer's High Imperial accent. "Yes, my lord," he responded immediately. "We are successfully en route. However, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you, if you have a moment."

_Force preserve us._ While Jerusha could not deny his effectiveness as a medic, given the speed of her recovery under his care (even considering her unusual physiology), nor his abilities as a pilot, she found his near-fanatical patriotism unsettling, to say the least. Then there was his fawning servility. Normally such an attitude would come across as phony – but in Quinn's case, the fact that he actually seemed sincere only made it worse. They already had one obsequious droid on the ship; there wasn't need for another one, dammit.

But telling him to piss off wasn't going to improve matters in the least. "Certainly," she replied instead. "I'll be right there."

She left the armor on the bed and shrugged a robe on over her undertunic, cinching the belt as she padded through the central conference room in her stockings. The protocol droid began to blather as she approached – something about the air filtration unit – but she ignored it and turned through the short hall that led up to the bridge.

Beside the navcomputer stood Captain Malavai Quinn, hands clasped behind his back in a strict parade rest. Jerusha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "At ease, Captain," she said, trying to keep her voice free of any trace of annoyance. "Please feel free to speak... ah... freely." _Well, that could have been worse, I suppose._ If nothing else, listening to Quinn would give her practice dealing with protocol-obsessed bureaucrats.

He cleared his throat, letting his hands rest by his sides – though his posture remained unforgivingly straight. "My lord, I'd appreciate it if you would speak with Vette. Ask her not to disturb me when I'm working."

_Which is all the time._ Jerusha simply nodded, though. "What seems to be the problem?"

Quinn's eyebrows twitched in irritation. "She's not wired for military precision. And there's no filter on that twi'lek mouth."

The Sith tensed ever so slightly. Despite being caught mid-rant, Quinn noticed, and his momentary hesitation gave her an opening she didn't have to force. "Just what is it about her mouth being twi'lek that makes it so particularly objectionable?" she asked, her voice deceptively smooth.

But to his credit, Quinn recognized the underlying threat and backtracked rapidly. "Simply that it's clear that she was not raised with an appreciation for decorum, such as would be expected in an Imperial household." He cleared his throat, his stance somehow even more rigid than before. "Though I have chosen not to pry, her behavior suggests that her... dealings... with the Empire are fairly recent."

One dark brow arched. "You mean her enslavement?" Jerusha kept her tone mild, but she watched Quinn's reaction carefully.

"I was not aware that Vette was still a slave, my lord," he replied without so much as a blink.

_Riposte. Nicely done._ "She isn't. But it's my understanding that her 'service' to Darth Baras is what introduced her into our society." Her smile was thin. "At any rate, what is she saying that is causing problems?"

Taking a careful breath, Quinn nodded. "When I was tracking down Agent Voloran, she must have overheard me talking about Moff Broysc, and now she persistently pesters me about him. She keeps slipping his name nonsensically into conversations, just to annoy me. She says she won't stop until I tell her why I hate the man."

After a moment's silence, Jerusha lifted her shoulders. "Well, then. Why not tell her?"

Quinn began to sputter in outraged astonishment. "It's neither appropriate nor in the Empire's interests to discuss the matter with non-military personnel." He huffed in frustration, yanking his already-impeccable tunic back into place. "Besides. Knowing her, the details of Broysc's collapse at Druckenwall, and his and my subsequent conflict, would only give her more fodder."

As she watched him desperately trying to regain his dignity, Jerusha felt the rage that had built up within her begin to melt. Thinking back on the brief time she'd known Quinn, she realized it was the first time she'd seen him so out of sorts. Perhaps in his thoughts he reduced Vette to "the twi'lek" and her to "the Sith" and "the mirialan" (or was it the other way around?) but she felt a bit hypocritical harboring a grudge against him for doing so, when that way of thinking had been drummed into him all his life. Wasn't that what so irritated him about Vette?

She smiled to herself. "Have you tried asking her? Not _telling_ her, mind you, but making a polite request?"

His mouth pinched into a thin line. "One should not have to _request_ common courtesy."

_Oh, for goodness' sake. Are you six?_ Jerusha decided it would be unhelpful to point out to him that he was acting like a petulant child. Instead, she merely shrugged again. "Perhaps she's wondering if, beneath that perfectly composed demeanor of yours, you're truly a person. Just... talk to her, Quinn. If Moff Broysc isn't something that you feel comfortable discussing with her, tell her about your family. Or about how you first decided you wanted to be in the military. It doesn't have to be important, but it needs to be personal." He glanced to the side, his pinched mouth turning down at the corners, and she took a hesitant step toward him. "Please."

His attention snapped back to her in an instant, his expression suddenly sharp and contemplative. "If it matters to you, my lord, I shall do my utmost."

Jerusha resisted the urge to step back, away from the scrutiny of that intense gaze. Instead, she merely nodded once. "It does, Captain," she said, retreating to the comfort of formality. "If that is all?"

He nodded in reply. "I will return to my duties."

But as she turned to head back to her cabin, she could not shake the feeling that things would not return to quite the way they had been.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So here you have it! I am finally writing about another class. Jerusha Yoh is my almost-entirely-LS mirialan Sith Warrior. Her parents recognized her Force sensitivity early on and did what they could to teach her about it while also shielding her from both the Jedi and the Sith, feeling it best to stay out of galactic politics. However, in searching for someone who had unknowingly helped her family, Jerusha discovered something terrible, and she realized that repaying her debt would lead her far from everything she'd ever known.

This series will focus on the development of the relationship between Jerusha and the LI for the female SW, Malavai Quinn. I find him almost entirely unpalatable as he's written in-game; I just have a scathing disdain for any character who is that full of himself. (Nik, I'm giving you the evil eye as well, buster!) And in the SW storyline, you can kind of get him to loosen up somewhat... if you don't mind a bit of sexual assault. Eegh.

So between that and the Quinncident, I have had fix-fic plotbunnies breeding in the back of my brain for months now. (That's a rather unpleasant mental image. Sorry!) What tipped me over the edge was running through the Alderaan bonus series. I've already maxed out Vette's affection, and the conversations on Alderaan don't give affection points for any of the other companions, so I dug Quinn out of storage. After forgetting to switch him out a time or two I realized that he's actually pretty effective, particularly given that I haven't given him a stitch of new gear since he was shoved onto my crew.

That gave me the story idea that Vette was pretty banged up after a mission and they had more to do but Vette insists that Jeri not go out on her own and suggests she take Quinn along. Despite not having worked together in that capacity before, they actually make an effective team, and Jerusha finds that Quinn relaxes a bit when he's not stuck on the ship, and that she doesn't dislike him quite as much as she'd thought.

There _may_ be other stories along the way. I do adore most of the SW's companions - Vette and Pierce and Jaesa are all my bbs! Broonmark, alas, is just kind of big and growly.

Final note: This is a completely separate universe from the one with Vacy and her crew. There IS a SW in that 'verse who will be very tangential to the storyline.


	2. An Unexpected Change

**Scene 2: An Unexpected Change**

* * *

Sometimes Jerusha wondered if the reason the holoterminal was the central feature of the largest room on the starship was that Darth Baras wanted his projection to be as large as possible. It was a foolish, petty thought, of course, she reflected as she strode past it again for the umpteenth time, but then, Baras was certainly petty on a regular basis, and while she wouldn't dare to call him foolish out loud, she sometimes wondered about the wisdom of his plans.

Reaching the other end of the room, she leaned over and peered toward the ship's medbay, but it was impossible to tell what progress - if any - had been made. With a muttered curse, she turned and began to pace back the other direction once more. _No wonder Baras mocks me. I have grown overconfident, and that was a terrible mistake. Perhaps he is foolish and petty, but I have been reckless, and it nearly cost me the life of someone I care about. _Her hand clenched into a fist as she approached the holoterminal and she pulled it back... and then sighed. What would be the purpose? It would be a futile gesture; the droid would fuss and repair the equipment, and Quinn would say absolutely nothing as he applied antiseptic and an absorbent bandage. She leaned heavily against the terminal, shoulders drooping. "This is pointless," she muttered into the empty room.

Except that it was no longer empty. There was a cough behind her, and Quinn's voice: "You are correct, my lord."

She turned to face him, straightening instinctively, her eyes flashing. Did he dare mock her? For some reason the captain had a particular knack for getting her dander up.

But his expression was as unruffled as always as he walked toward her. "As I said initially, I had the situation well in hand. Vette's injuries, while substantial, were not beyond my capabilities, and while our medical facilities are not as extensive here as it would be in a full medcenter, I had the equipment necessary to attend to her. She will recover fully."

Jerusha took a breath, and then let it out in a long, heavy sigh. "What kind of Sith am I, anyway?" she asked bitterly.

"The kind who risks everything to protect those who matter to her."

His answer was as calm and immediate as if he were reciting disciplinary protocols, but his tone was gentle. She stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then looked away, not sure why this unsettled her so. "Well... I... yes, I guess so. How did you..."

Quinn simply lifted his shoulders. "It is the duty of _every_ Imperial citizen to aspire to such ideals of service. Your focus and determination are an example to us all."

Her brows arched, but she at least managed to resist the temptation to roll her eyes as she regarded him. "How is it that you can take something so personal and make it into such bland Imperial propaganda?"

He stood there at parade rest, as perfectly proper as always. "I suppose it is a particular talent of mine, my lord."

That surprised Jerusha into a half-second of silence. She peered at him almost suspiciously. "Quinn... did you just... make a joke?"

"Of course not, my lord. I have my reputation to uphold, after all. It simply wouldn't do to lose my title of 'Captain Tightpants.' Now if you will excuse me, I shall return to my duties." He dipped his head respectfully, then executed a sharp pivot and strode briskly toward the bridge. Just outside the hatch, though, he paused and looked back at her, adding, "And if I had, hypothetically speaking, done something so unseemly, I would ensure that there was no evidence and it could never be proven to have happened." With that, he stepped through the doorway and was gone.

* * *

It wasn't until the fourth time she looked into the medbay that its patient was actually awake. Jerusha walked over to the cot where the twi'lek lay, folding her arms with a smirk. "About time you woke up, snoozy girl."

Vette's smile was wobbly - possibly the effect of whatever drugs were still in her system - but impish as ever. "Jeez, whadda I gotta do to catch a break around here? C'mon, J, you know I need my beauty sleep!"

"Pff." Jerusha rolled her eyes, keeping up her playful facade. "If there's anybody on this crew who _doesn't_ need beauty sleep, it's you."

One blue _lek_ wiggled in consideration as Vette thought this over. "I guess you're right. I bet Captain Tightpants already slept for like a week to get that cutie mark just so." She rolled carefully to the side and grinned cheekily up at the Sith. "So that means it's my turn now, right? Maybe if I sleep a lot I'll get some nice big tits!"

This time, Jerusha's smile was genuine. "I don't think that's biologically likely," she chuckled, shaking her head. "And you need to quit calling him that! Have you said it to his face or something?"

"No!" Vette looked offended. "Gosh, can you imagine? He'd probably have a heart attack or something, because it's so very very improper and all." She put a hand to her chest, gasping dramatically. "Urk! Cannot... process... this interaction. Must... go fill out... paperwork!"

Jerusha made a face at her friend. "Well, he knows you call him that, anyway."

Vette lifted her head and peered at Jerusha. "Really? Well, I haven't said that around him. I mean, not that I know of." Her eyes suddenly got big. "Oooooo. Maybe he's spying on you!"

Blinking in confusion, Jerusha considered, then shook her head. "That makes no sense. We all live together - it's not like there are any real secrets."

With a broad grin, Vette batted her eyes at the mirialan. "Maybe it's because he's in luuuuuuuve with you. He thinks you're sooooo pretty."

Jerusha flushed and began to sputter. "What? No! It just - that's - no. Where did you even come up with that idea? I mean... did he _say _something like that?"

The twi'lek let out a soft, dreamy sigh and clasped her hands by her chin. "Oh no. He's the strong, silent type, you know. And so he pines in secret, hoping that one day you might glance in his direction."

That sounded awfully familiar. Jerusha rubbed at her chin, thinking back... "Hey." She folded her arms again. "Isn't that a line from a holovid? Did you... you just made all that up, didn't you!"

"What, did you think I was serious or something?" She started laughing, holding her sides, until she began to cough.

Jerusha stepped forward, the good-natured banter immediately forgotten. "Are you all right? Should I go get Quinn?"

Vette shook her head as she continued coughing. Finally the spasms subsided, and she took a few seconds to catch her breath. "I'm all right. Prob'ly just built up a bit of phlegm there. But, uh, that's kind of something I wanted to talk to you about."

"I don't understand." Countless terrible possibilities immediately came to mind - was Vette suffering from a terminal illness? Had she developed some kind of allergy? Was Quinn poisoning her? Was she interested in Quinn? Actually, that last idea had possibilities... it would certainly explain her fixation for teasing him so mercilessly...

"I think you should take Cutie Face along on your next mission." Blue eyes gazed gently up at brown ones, and before Jerusha could protest, Vette continued. "Darth Baras won't put up with you waiting for me to get better, and I'm in no shape to go with you. I'd be more of a hindrance than a help. And I'll feel better knowing that you're not out there by yourself. That there's somebody who has your back."

There was a tightness in her throat. Jerusha shook her head again. "He's not my partner. You are. I'll be fine until you're better. It's going to be okay. You'll see."

Vette reached over and slipped her hand into the Sith's. "It's not for always. Just for now, okay? I'll recover a lot faster if I'm not worrying about you so much. And I know I rag on him a lot, but..." She let out a sigh. "He knows his stuff," she admitted. "Just think it over, okay?"

Jerusha squeezed the hand that held hers. "I will," she replied softly. "You get some rest, now, all right? And watch it with the nicknames." Vette nodded with another woozy grin, and Jerusha let go of her hand and left the medbay, heading up toward the bridge, hoping that the twi'lek's tall tale didn't have any basis in fact.

Because that would make for an uncomfortable complication.

* * *

**Author's Note:** It's _not_ actually a line from a holovid; it's from _The Princess Bride_. I'm not sure if it's in the movie or not, but the book is better anyway. You should read it!

My husband has been marathoning _NCIS_ lately, and as I was writing the scene with Jerusha and Vette, I realized that I was hearing Vette's dialogue in the voice of Abby, their forensic specialist. It makes a lot of sense - they're both perpetually-cheerful with a devilish sense of humor. Also, Abby always wears double ponytails or double braids, so... it's almost like lekku!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	3. An Unbalanced Conflict

**Scene 3: An Unbalanced Conflict**

* * *

Tatooine was a backwater husk of a planet without any significance whatsoever, Jerusha grumbled in her mind. _At least none beyond what that rotten master of mine claims it has_, she amended a moment later. Now that Vette was free, her reason for joining the Order was gone. Unfortunately, though, simply hanging up one's saber wasn't an option among the Sith. _Maybe when I kill him I can arrange for some enormous explosion and everyone will think we're both dead. Then I can just start over, somewhere that I won't be recognized. Somewhere out-of-the-way. But hopefully somewhere nicer than this._

Darth Baras had informed her of their next destination while Quinn was sorting out the docking arrangements before they could leave Nar Shaddaa. There had been additional charges and extra fees all over the place, and Jerusha had thrown a fit. They could have afforded to pay, of course; money wasn't something they had to worry about. But it was the principle of the matter, and so the Captain had gone off to put his endless unflappability to the test. When he returned triumphantly and gave an itemized account of the expenses that had been reduced (even some of the original cost had been discounted), it more than balanced the price of the luxury airspeeder that Jerusha had ordered - with perhaps more than a little input from Vette - while he'd been out.

"Holy smokes!" Vette gaped at the amount that he named as the total. "It's like we got a free speeder!" Beaming, she put her hands on her hips. "I am actually impressed. In fact, I'm so impressed I could _kiss _you right now!"

Though it might have previously seemed impossible, Quinn somehow tightened even more.

But she just laughed at his stricken expression. "Don't worry," she said, patting him on the shoulder as she walked past. "I'll leave that to the boss!" she chirped, and then with a laugh she dashed off. "Bye, boss!"

Jerusha let out a sigh, rubbing at her forehead - something she found herself doing rather often when Vette was around. "It's all right, Captain," she said wryly. "I'm not going to kiss you."

"My lord!" Somehow his prim tone was shocked but not offended. "I would never presume to think that-"

She waved his protest aside. "I know, I know. It's fine. Just get us out of here before we rack up more charges, all right?"

He gave a crisp nod. "Yes, my lord. What course shall I set?"

Jerusha sighed again, wishing she didn't even have to say it. "Tatooine."

* * *

The airspeeder had been delivered to the Mos Ila spaceport as promised by the time they arrived, and even Quinn had to admit that its sleek elegance was much more appropriate for the image of a powerful Sith (almost) lord. It also made the seemingly endless journey across the Tatooine deserts much less miserable, as its sensors kept the internal temperature quite comfortable, and the viewpanel was specially crafted to reduce the glare from the twin suns directly, as well as the refraction from the gleaming sand dunes. Since Quinn was driving, it was tempting to lie back and snooze a bit - the seat backs could be reclined to almost horizontal.

"There's a cavern over there, to the southeast," she said, nodding in the direction she'd indicated. "Let's check it out."

To his credit, Quinn hesitated for only a moment before adjusting their course to head toward the break in the cliff face. Vette would have put up more of an argument, protesting that it wasn't the right cavern and they still had another dozen klicks to go before they'd even hit the right area. And then if Jerusha had explained that she already knew that, Vette would of course pester her to explain why they were going somewhere other than where they had been directed to go.

But even though it didn't appear to be necessary, Jerusha found herself explaining anyway - perhaps out of habit. "We haven't seen too much in the way of native fauna. There's a good chance that it keeps out of the sun. And while I'm reasonably confident that I'll be able to handle whatever this Sand Demon thing is, I feel it would be prudent to test my skills against something a little less lethal. I'm not certain how the heat and sand will affect my equipment, and that's the sort of thing it's helpful to know before a fight to the death."

"Of course, my lord." Quinn's immediate deference was something she was still getting used to. While it was true that most Force-blind people treated Sith with great respect, they were also anxious to get away from any they met as soon as they could. This was the first time she'd spent any significant time working with someone who wasn't an apprentice or a master. Or Vette, of course, but she was an exception to just about every rule there was.

He stopped the speeder just outside the cavern. Jerusha smoothed her hair back and pulled on her helmet and gauntlets before stepping out of the vehicle and striding to the mouth of the cave. She'd promised Vette that she would bring Quinn along to help out, but that didn't mean she actually needed his help. She would be just fine on her own against -

Against the enormous reptile that had just noticed her.

Jerusha didn't even allow herself the luxury of a curse muttered under her breath; it wouldn't do to show any sort of weakness in front of Quinn. In front of the creature, she corrected herself. Her saber was in her hand at a moment's thought, the crimson blade igniting with the familiar snap-hiss that always seemed to sharpen her senses. Excitement and anticipation thrilled through her in a dizzying rush, strengthening her connection to the Force, and she leapt toward the beast, saber aloft.

Unfortunately, it reared back to strike, and Jerusha's attack barely sliced through its outer hide as a result. She spun out of the way as it lunged forward, and her shield sparked around her as it absorbed the impact. It was covered in a layer of thick, protective scales, and while they were no match for her lightsaber, cutting through them didn't seem to do much more than anger the animal. It wasn't until a particularly well-executed stroke that it even began bleeding.

The fight went on for a good deal longer than she'd expected, but Jerusha was able to fend off slashes from the beast's claws without too much difficulty. It had quickly realized that the strange fire-stick she wielded was dangerous, and became more careful in its attacks. But her shields held, and after she'd wounded it, Jerusha pressed her advantage, until finally she was able to dart forward and stab up into the creature's neck. With a gurgling hiss, it collapsed.

Resisting the urge to lean over and catch her breath, Jerusha straightened and clipped her saber hilt back to her belt. She turned to make her way back to the speeder, but Quinn was already rushing to her side.

He pulled out a small device, his fingers working the controls rapidly. "Excellent work, my lord. It appears that you are not in need of medical attention. Is there anything else?"

Jerusha checked the reading on her wristlet. "I'll want to recharge my…" She frowned. Surely that couldn't be correct; it said that her energy shield was completely charged.

Quinn returned the gadget to a pouch at his hip. "I was able to target your shield generator and stabilize its output. You should find your shield fully functional."

Thankfully, the helmet covered her entire face, and so Quinn wouldn't be able to see her surprise. She merely nodded. "Good work, Captain."

His heels snapped together and he lifted his chin, just a touch. And she _thought_ she saw the corner of his mouth quirk in something that might have been a smile, but it was gone so quickly that it was possible it was nothing more than her imagination. "I do my best, my lord."

_So I see_, Jerusha thought to herself. Aloud, she said only, "Let's move on."

And they did.

* * *

When Darth Baras told her that he was satisfied with her progress and that they would be sent to Alderaan to continue to strike at the Jedi padawan he'd been searching for, Jerusha could almost have hugged him. It wouldn't actually have been possible, since he was speaking to them through the _Fury's_ holoterminal. And it would probably have been an unwise move at any rate. Sith lords were not known for appreciating cuddles.

So she contented herself with keeping her victory dance internal. After closing the holocall, she made her way to the bridge, where Quinn was flying them out of system, toward the nearest hyperlane. Chances were he'd heard her conversation with Baras, as the ship wasn't large and the hall between the conference area and the bridge had no door. "Have you set course for Alderaan?"

His nod was brief and crisp. "Yes, my lord. In fact…" He paused, watching the console, and reached over for the hyperdrive controls. As he pushed the lever forward, the stars stretched into beams of bright light, and then they were surrounded by the swirling clouds of hyperspace. He checked the readings once more, then turned toward her. "We are successfully en route. However, it will be some time before we reach our destination. Is there anything you desire of me during this journey?"

The offer caught her off guard, because he seemed so completely serious. If it had been anyone else, she would have suspected the innuendo was intentional. But that was Quinn, and one thing she could always count on was that he was focused on his work, not on dropping flirtatious hints. It was almost a shame, given how nicely he filled out his uniform.

She cleared her throat. "Not at this time; I trust you to make whatever preparations you feel are necessary. I…" For some reason she found herself stumbling over her words a bit. "I wanted to thank you, Captain."

His expression did not change, other than a slight lift of his eyebrows. "For what, my lord?"

Jerusha looked around, trying to put her thoughts in order. The bridge was spotless, of course. She smiled to herself, and turned to Quinn again. "For your dedication to your tasks. Working with you has… well, it's taken some getting used to. I hope you understand that I don't mean that in a bad way." She lifted her shoulders. "It's just … different. You do your job, and you're good at it. I suppose I wanted you to know that I did notice, and that…" How should she put it? "That I am pleased with your service."

He was silent, but she saw his chest rise as he took in a breath, and his eyes widened a fraction. "Thank you, my lord," he said quietly. There was a gentleness to his tone that she hadn't heard before. And then, wonder of wonders, he actually smiled. "That means more to me than I know how to express. I hope that I will continue to please you."

She smiled back at him. "I'm sure you will." And with that, she turned and headed down the hall.

* * *

**Author's Note:** And here's proof that the smuggler class is not the _only_ one I've ever played, hahaha. I like the potential for subtlety in the SW romance - I don't think the game developed it well at all. Hence, fanfic! Hopefully I've done the characters justice.

Winter holidays are almost upon us! Wash your hands often, dear readers, don't push yourselves too hard, and be sure to remind yourselves of the blessings in your life. And please know that each of you is a blessing in MY life! *hugs to all!*


	4. An Unwilling Curiosity

**Scene 4: An Unwilling Curiosity**

* * *

Checking in with Darth Baras once they'd landed on-planet was never pleasant. In fact, dealing with her master at all was something Jerusha tried to avoid if she could. However, checking in for a more specific debriefing on his latest paranoid grasp for more power was unavoidable - as was listening to his rant about the young padawan and the threat she posed.

So she ground her teeth and resisted the urge to cut the channel. Instead, she gave what she hoped was a predatory sneer, keeping her smile thin. "The Jedi will soon be in your grasp, Master," she replied. "Only tell me who and where, and I shall cut them down in your name."

That earned her a dirty look from Vette, but Baras actually chuckled his approval. "I will tell you more once you arrive," he said. "Keep that thirst for power whetted in the meantime." Jerusha bowed as his image flickered and disappeared.

"Well look at that," the twi'lek snipped. "You made Darth Growly smile! At least I think he smiled. Can't really tell, what with that ugly helmet he always wears."

Jerusha turned to face Vette, folding her arms. "You would do well to remember that the man at whom you sneer is my master, and one of the most powerful Sith in the Empire. If you think things should be done differently, I can send you back to him to discuss that."

Vette's eyes widened, and her blue skin paled. "You wouldn't," she whispered. When Jerusha merely glared at her, she ducked her head and hurried away.

"You never cease to surprise me, my lord," said Quinn. His expression was as placid as always. He'd been with them for weeks, now, and Jerusha still wasn't sure what his true motivations were. At times his unquestioning loyalty to the Empire seemed almost robotic, but she knew that he was still a person, and as such, there had to be more going on.

She looked over at him thoughtfully. "Oh?" It clearly invited a response, though she did her best to keep her tone neutral.

He hesitated, then nodded. "You have typically been quite … familiar … with Vette. I am not sure that I have ever seen you treat her as a subordinate."

Though she tried to keep her expression as indifferent as his, she felt her brows twitch upward. "And just what does it mean to treat someone as a subordinate?"

Suspicion and uncertainty radiated from him in waves. "Boundaries," he stated after a moment. "The clear expectation - even assumption - of unquestioning obedience."

It was tempting to roll her eyes, but instead she took a slow breath. "Obedience without thought or hesitation?" Still, it wasn't quite possible to keep a note of dry sarcasm from her voice.

"Well - not quite, my lord," Quinn said, dipping his head in an almost-instinctive gesture of respect. "In many cases, a loyal subordinate will be given orders that are more general, and entrusted to develop a plan by which they will be carried out. In such a case, it would be necessary to think things through, and to take the time needed to create an effective plan."

Jerusha pressed her lips together tightly, but knew she was fighting a losing battle. "Of course. Effectiveness. I'm only surprised you didn't include the word 'efficient' in there as well."

He looked up slowly - cautiously, Jerusha realized. There was a longer pause than usual for him. "Permission to speak freely, my lord?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, praying for patience. _As if you _ever_ speak freely. Good heavens._ "Go ahead, Captain."

"I must admit, I am not adept at deciphering the nuances of your conversation. Perhaps it is because I am most familiar with human cultures; perhaps it is that you are Sith. However, it seems that there is an undertone of humor to your most recent remarks." He fell silent again, but this time he did not look away, and Jerusha found herself enjoying the attention of his clear grey eyes.

And so she allowed herself the slightest hint of a smile. "I had no idea that humor was such a foreign concept for you," she teased, ever so faintly.

Was it her imagination? Or was that the ghost of a smile in return? "I fear it was lacking from the curriculum at the Academy, my lord."

Those weren't just wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, she was sure of it. "Why, Captain, is that a joke? And at the expense of such a venerable institution of the Empire!" By this point it was no use trying to pretend she wasn't smiling. "Tsk, tsk… what will the neighbors think?"

"Merely an observation of fact," he pointed out. "And such a 'venerable institution' will certainly be able to withstand any possible slight from the observation of a mere mortal such as I."

Now she was certain he was smiling as well, though of course it was very restrained. Still, she found she liked the expression on him. Perhaps, with the right sort of encouragement, she might one day get to hear him laugh. "Well, even if you have no actual training in humor, you seem to have a natural flair for it," she said with a quiet chuckle. "Who knows - if you keep practicing, you might surprise all of us."

He took a breath, the almost-smile fading as his expression turned pensive. "Speaking of humor, my lord, there was something I have been uncertain about for some time, and I wondered if you could perhaps clarify it for me."

Jerusha nodded. "I will if I am able. What is it?"

Clearly it was something of grave significance, whatever it was, because he again took a breath, and then he also cleared his throat. "Well, when we first began to - that is, when I was assigned to help you - on Balmorra, I mean - well, your demeanor toward me was, ahm… different. At the time, and based on my previous experiences with other Sith - limited as they were, of course, and perhaps misleading as a result - I inferred that your …" He paused, his brows pulling together. "Your, ah, _particular_ phrasings, which seemed to lean toward innuendo, were meant - well - in jest. That you were simply having a bit of humor at my expense."

"Oh." Jerusha felt her cheeks begin to warm. She wasn't entirely sure what to say, so it was fortunate when Quinn began to fumble on again.

"But it has not escaped my notice since coming aboard that such behavior would be quite atypical for you. I have never seen you mock others - not once - not even Vette, who I swear by all the stars sometimes seems to be _begging_ for it."

Jerusha folded her arms, one brow arching.

He froze. "Apologies, my lord. I… at any rate, it caused me to rethink those inferences. And I found myself wondering if you… that is, if there was… if there could be another explanation for the - the way you said… certain things." He opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. Frowned thoughtfully. Took a breath. "I wondered - and, my lord, please know that I would never presume, which is the reason I feel I must ask - my lord, were… were you flirting with me?"

She could deny it, of course; feign offense that he would even dare to think such a thing and storm off. He'd accept it, she was sure of that. However, she was fairly certain he was far too intelligent to actually believe it. She let out a long sigh, squinching her eyes closed. "Yes!" she blurted. "Oh, gracious, Quinn, I…" She sighed again. "It was teasing, to be honest… but it wasn't just teasing. And thoroughly inappropriate, I'm sure, and I'm sorry." She opened her eyes tentatively. "I… I apologize?"

He stepped toward her with a warm, gentle smile. "My lord, as you have pointed out to me multiple times, you are not part of the Imperial military. As such, your behavior went against no edicts or decrees. In fact, as Sith, you are above those sorts of regulations. You have no need to apologize, my lord." He took a breath, swallowed, then added, softly, "But… please understand that it is appreciated nonetheless."

It was uncomfortable holding his gaze, but Jerusha found it even more difficult to look away. "I had thought, based on your reaction, that my flirtation was unwelcome. Do you mean to say it wasn't?"

Fortunately, that was enough to get Quinn to drop his gaze. He was silent for a few seconds, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and deep. "I have learned not to desire that which can never be mine."

This time she was the one who moved toward him. Somehow the dark rumble of his voice had made her bold. She looked up at him. "Are you so certain you could not have what you desire?" she whispered. She wasn't touching him - not quite - but close enough that the air seemed slightly warmer from the heat of his body.

His jaw tightened, a thin line flexing at the side of his mouth. For several moments there was no sound but their breathing and the hum of the ship's engines. "I ought to return to my duties," he said finally.

The rejection was indirect, but it still smarted. Jerusha lifted her chin. "I am Sith. I could simply command you to do … whatever I like."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, as infuriatingly proper as always. Still, he did not move away. "You could. That is fairly common among Sith." He finally met her gaze once more, and his eyes were dark. His mouth quirked up just a touch, and he added, "However, you are a very uncommon Sith."

Somehow that softened things a bit. He was right, of course. She didn't want to force him into anything; she wanted him to choose her. Which clearly he wasn't doing. (Dammit!) Pride prevented her from sulking, at least in front of him, but she couldn't help snipping "Do you always do just as you ought?"

Quinn hesitated, then let out a soft breath. "I try, even when circumstances make it difficult." He took a step back and cleared his throat. "Is there anything else you need of me, my lord?"

And naturally he'd said 'need' rather than 'want,' blast him. "Gather your things," she replied crisply. "Though Vette's observations would no doubt be entertaining, they are also rarely diplomatic. The nobles here on Alderaan are used to having everyone cater to them, and I don't need additional challenges. I'll meet you out in the spaceport in ten minutes."

He bowed. "Of course, my lord." With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So as I was writing this and things started... hm... escalating, I found myself wondering whether I should have them smooch. Or not. I went back and forth on it for awhile before I thought "hm, _maybe_ I ought to check my notes." And there it was! "First kiss," right there in the notes. Only... it wasn't the notes for this scene. Drat!

I actually intended to post this last night, after FFN came back (I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! NEVER LEAVE ME AGAIN!) but my stomach decided to act up and I spent the entire night dealing with aching, sweating, and nausea. They say that "laughter is the best medicine," but I think feedback might be even more effective... hint, hint!

Hope everyone's 2015 has been happy and healthy so far!


	5. An Uncomfortable Complication

**Scene 5: An Uncomfortable Complication**

* * *

"I hate this." Jerusha scowled down at the layers of bead-strings she held in her hands. "I look ridiculous."

"You look fantastic," Vette retorted with a roll of her eyes. "Now shut up and hold still." There was a soft whirr, then a click as the thin transparisteel panel latched into place. The twi'lek stood back, her blue skin shimmering faintly with a thin layer of perspiration. "Okay. Let go and we'll see how well it covers the armoring."

The beads rustled against each other as they jostled into place, the strings swaying gently, sending little sparkles of light across Jerusha's skin. "Stars, I wish I didn't have to go to this thing. I wouldn't, if it didn't mean sending Jaesa by herself. I'm rotten at small talk as it is, and that's when it's not with people who are plotting to kill me."

"Well, not that you know of," Vette replied unhelpfully. One of her blue head-tails undulated in a motion Jerusha had learned to recognize as wry amusement. "After all, you spent the entire morning with Jaesa. Sith stuff, I guess. Anyway, Captain Tightpants and I had plenty of time to plan your unfortunate demise."

That finally provoked a grin in response. "Nonsense. As if you and Captain _Quinn_ could reach a consensus on anything without bloodshed – or a submission hold at the very least."

Vette waggled her brows suggestively, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Never said that wasn't involved. Do you have any idea how flexible that captain of yours is?"

By this point they were both laughing, which was the reason for the warmth in her cheeks, Jerusha assured herself. "Ugh! I really didn't need that mental image. Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome!" Vette chirped. She waved a circle with one hand. "Turn around. Take a few steps. I want to see how it moves."

As she walked to the other side of the room, turned, and came back, Jerusha found herself getting used to the strange feel of the lightweight garment.

Vette was frowning as she approached. "I wish we could have found a way to do something about all of that," she said, gesturing to the deep slash in the front of the dress. The ultra-low neckline dipped almost to Jerusha's waist, leaving her neck, shoulders, and a good bit of her chest exposed. The back was even worse – there was a thin webbing of beads to keep the dress from slipping off her body entirely, but other than that, her skin was bare from shoulder to hip. "But even using transparisteel, it'd be obvious."

Jerusha glared at her companion. "You're the one who insisted on this dress! I told you it was too open."

"But I knew it would look amazing on you – and it does!" Vette sighed and smoothed one of the strands into place. "Besides. Your robe is reinforced, and it has a high neck. Just make sure you're carrying it, and then after you make your big entrance you can say you're cold and put that on. Say it's because you're mirialan or something." She let out a disdainful snort. "It's not like any of them would know better."

Rolling her eyes, the Sith let out a long sigh. "Yes, they're arrogant, but not everyone in the order is as overconfident as you seem to think," she said as she reached down, pulling her tall boots on. She bent low to close the fastenings, down by her ankles. "I wish you'd be more careful." The panel beside the door chimed and lit up, and she struggled with the boot for a moment, then simply called, "Come on in, Jaesa," and bent down again to fight with the delicate mechanism.

But when the door swished open, it was Quinn who stood there, holding the cloak Vette had mentioned. "My lord, your apprentice awaits you by…"

"There," she sighed, standing again. "Now, what was that?"

He stared at her for a moment, the silence heavy.

Vette stepped forward. "I'll just, ahm... I'll go check on Jaesa," she said brightly. She pushed Quinn the rest of the way into the room. "Here," she added, patting the thick, dark material draped over his arm. "Help her with that." She darted out into the hall without saying more, and the door swished closed again.

Jerusha felt suddenly self-conscious. "Captain?"

That seemed to do the trick. Quinn blinked and straightened, his expression completely proper except for the bright spots of color in his cheeks, as though they had been pinched sharply. "The shuttle is here, and all is prepared." He lifted the cloak carefully, holding it out so that she could shrug into it.

When she turned around, she heard a soft intake of breath before the heavy fabric brushed her skin. Quinn's hands rested on her shoulders, almost as though to hold her there. She let out a quiet sigh. "I wish I didn't have to go," she murmured.

"Darth Baras did say that only Jaesa's presence was required."

She nodded, feeling his hands lift from her shoulders as she turned to face him again. "Which is why I have to go," she said with a wry smile. "I couldn't just send her into that lair of sand demons by herself."

Quinn stepped closer, reached up, and ever so gently secured the collar of the cloak. "No, my lord," he said softly. "Others could, of course. But not you." Though he let go, he did not move away.

"Not me," Jerusha echoed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Her shoulders drooped under a weight much more burdensome than the thick folds that enshrouded her. Her mouth curled into a wistful smile. "Sometimes I wish I could," she admitted.

His head tilted to the side. "I think you might find yourself displeased if that wish was fulfilled, my lord." He hesitated, then added, "I hope you would be."

She looked up at him, her brows pulling together in a silent question.

"I believe I have already mentioned the rather obvious fact that you are not like other Sith. In truth, you are not like anyone else I have ever known."A smile pulled at his mouth, but he cleared his throat and continued. "But I would not want - not that it is up to me, but I would not want you to change. I like you because of who you are, not in spite of who you are."

"Oh." Jerusha found herself beginning to smile. "So… you like me."

Quinn ducked his head respectfully. "Yes, my lord, that was indeed the statement."

"But you didn't just state it." The smile stretched into a grin. "You meant it. Didn't you?"

His head snapped up again. "My lord!" Quinn protested. "I hope that I have neither said nor done anything that would give you any reason to doubt my integrity. I would not want you to think I was the sort of man who would ever lie to you."

Jerusha folded her arms. "You're dodging the question," she teased. "And what if if it was for the good of the Empire?"

Cheeks even darker, he began to sputter. "I hardly think that how I… I mean, my feelings… that is, the issue at hand is _not _a matter of galactic security." He cleared his throat again, attempting to regain some semblance of control. "And even if it were, attempting such a fabrication to a Sith would demonstrate a degree of ignorance and foolishness I would hope you thought me incapable of achieving."

It was difficult to restrain the laughter that bubbled up inside her, but Jerusha decided that she'd needled Quinn more than enough - certainly more than he actually deserved. "Well spoken. How is it you always know just what to say?"

He straightened his already-impeccable uniform. "In this case, I suppose dumb luck," he muttered. "And so that I am not again accused of dodging questions, my lord, yes, I did." He took a deep breath, looking over Jerusha's shoulder rather than meeting her gaze. "I meant it. I - I like you."

The sudden burst of nervousness that fluttered through her might have been due to the prospect of spending an entire evening among other Sith. But somehow Jerusha found it hard to convince herself. "I like you too," she replied quietly.

Had she imagined it, or did his eyes widen, just a touch? But he merely stepped aside and bowed. "The shuttle is ready, and Jaesa is likely waiting."

Of course. "Thank you, Captain," she said. And she walked past him and headed for the airlock.

* * *

Author's Note: Where the heck does the time go? WHERE DOES IT GO? It doesn't feel like it's been that long since I updated this story, and yet poof! Three months have gone by! There've been TWO double-XP weekends AND a Rakghoul plague in the meantime, I've graded I don't know how many essays, and the school year is a few days from being over. Goodness gracious!

I chaperoned prom this year, and it's always gratifying. I generally dress pretty simply, and so when I actually DO something with myself, the effect is rather striking. Maybe I'm an old married lady, but I'm still vain enough that having students say "you look AMAZING!" makes me smile.

Readers, I hope this update made YOU smile! Thank you so much for sticking with me.


	6. An Unpleasant Crisis

**Scene 6: An Unpleasant Crisis**

* * *

The one thing everyone seemed able to agree on, Empire and Republic alike, was that if the galaxy took humanoid form, Taris would be its armpit. Jerusha found it difficult to imagine that anyone had ever actually chosen to live there.

And as if it wasn't enough to have to endure oppressive humidity, endless swampy muck, and a fetid stench that she doubted would ever scrub off her skin, Quinn assured her that the true difficulty with Taris was something even more delightful. Apparently there was also an indigenous life form that had a unique way of propagating - they passed on a plague that infected creatures vaguely like themselves. This plague would then strip its victims of all coherent thought and reduce them to the same sort of mindless slavering beast that had infected them.

Lovely.

Vette had insisted that she was still not physically recovered from her injuries, despite returning to normal activity about the ship and a very healthy appetite, and suggested that Quinn should continue to accompany the warrior as she tracked down the Republic generals. Jaesa, after all, was still quite new, and would probably be more of a liability than an asset. It just made sense.

Perhaps her time among the Sith had made her more paranoid than she used to be, but Jerusha thought Vette's explanations were a bit suspect. If it was simply from a desire to get out of being stuck on such a horrid planet herself, why the insistence that Quinn go instead of Jaesa? As she sat beside Quinn on the shuttle to the Imperial Reclamations command center, Jerusha pondered Vette's behavior further. There didn't seem to be any particular benefit to the twi'lek that she could see. It just didn't make sense. With a sigh, she resolved to put it out of her mind and focus on the assignment Baras had given them.

Compared to the krayt dragons and sand demons she'd faced on Tatooine, rakghouls should not present much of a challenge, Jerusha had decided after doing a bit of research. While their fangs and claws were dangerous, they had neither scales nor chitinous plating. There were a few cases of some that had developed thick, leathery hides, but the main danger seemed to be twofold. First, they often traveled in large packs. The solution for that was simple: avoid the larger groups, and strike decisively when attacking to reduce the number of enemies as quickly as possible.

The second concern was psychological. Newly-turned rakghouls took some time to shed the vestiges of the person who had been infected. The thought of Vette's brilliant blue skin fading, her eyes losing their mischievous sparkle… Jerusha shuddered. But after reflecting that Vette was still aboard the ship, and therefore not in any danger, she cheered up again, chuckling to herself. Perhaps that had been the reason for her insistence that Quinn go along - she figured he'd be the easiest for Jerusha to take out if he got infected.

She glanced over at her partner as they traipsed along the path that squished wetly beneath their feet, and felt her smile fade as she realized that at some point, things had changed. She really didn't want to get rid of him anymore. But somehow it went even beyond that… Of course, the thought of someone you know turning into a drooling monster would give anyone the creeps, she rationalized. The plan to have Quinn monitor things from a safe distance was simply a matter of practicality.

Jerusha very carefully gave a wide berth to the larger hordes of rakghouls that lazed in the sludgy muck. She edged instead toward one that had wandered off to snack on a half-rotted corpse pinned under a collapsed girder, some distance away from any of the others. For whatever reason, they seemed to avoid the ruins, preferring the swampy overgrowth that had begun to reclaim the planet.

With a nod to Quinn and a head-tilt toward the rakghoul, she ignited her saber. While she did not have the thirst for destruction that every other Sith seemed to, she had to admit that there was something exhilarating about launching toward her prey with her saber drawn and hissing with power. The creature had just enough time to look up and snarl in mingled fear and fury before she landed and, with a flash of her blade, sliced it neatly into two oozing lumps of flesh.

But despite the ease of the kill, Jerusha stayed in her half-crouch, lightsaber ready, her senses still alert. The other acolytes had often mocked her unusual caution (and her skin tone), calling her a Jedi poser, but then, she was the one who was still alive. It was never wise to relax one's guard before being absolutely certain of victory. Moments later, a scuttling hiss proved her correct. Apparently the rakghouls didn't mind the collapsed buildings at all; they just had more places to hide. She filed that bit of information away for later and reached out through the Force, sensing a few more rakghouls approaching. No… more than that. At least half a dozen.

There might have been more still, but then she saw a flicker of movement and had to shift her concentration. The walkway she stood on wiggled uncertainly as the creatures darted toward her, their claws scraping at the aged metal with hundreds of tiny shrieks that blended into a high-pitched clatter that sent prickles up her spine. She'd felt the supports shudder beneath her feet as she landed, reminding her that the building was no longer intact and probably not structurally sound.

At first she fought viciously, hoping she could quickly finish off the pack. But by the time she'd finished off the first pair that had charged at her, three more rakghouls had joined them. Her shield snapped and fizzled, straining to absorb the force of their attack, and she realized she wouldn't last much longer if she didn't protect herself. But dividing her focus slowed her down, and the pack showed no sign of diminishing. She'd already lost count of how many she'd killed, yet they still surrounded her.

Up close, she could almost make out the remnants of the people they had been, before their eyes went wide and bloodshot and their skin withered and tightened. Her revulsion gave her a new surge of energy, though she could feel fatigue weighing her limbs down. She twisted, ducked and stabbed again. Another beast fell, but even as it did, more took its place. She wondered for a moment if rakghouls were more intelligent than anyone realized, if the creature off by itself had been intended as a lure.

But she didn't have more than that moment to wonder, for just then one of them leaped at her. It grabbed on to her saber arm, just above the elbow, wrenching it badly before she smashed it in the face with her other hand. Pain shot through her shoulder, white-hot and insistent. She pushed her agony into rage and bludgeoned the rakghoul again and again, until it dropped. It snarled again, but she kicked it aside while taking her lightsaber in her other hand, whirled, and sliced neatly through it. There was no time to beat it into a pulp the way her frenzy demanded, not with one beside her and another trying to edge around behind.

Her movements slightly more erratic, now that she was fighting with her weaker hand, she lunged and swept into a spin. The move neatly severed the head of the rakghoul next to her, but the other jumped backward, out of her reach. She turned further and was about to press the attack when she saw that the reason she only had that one to worry about was that the rest of the cluster had broken off and headed up the hill.

Toward Quinn.

Exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders, but it was no match for her stubbornness. There was no way she was going to let someone under her protection be harmed. She took a deep breath and let out a roar of outrage and indignation.

Everything seemed to pause for a fraction of a second before toppling into chaos. The horde that had been racing toward Quinn was now focused once more on her. Jerusha barely managed to dispatch the lone rakghoul near her before she was swarmed. She had no idea how many more might be crawling up along the crumbling duracrete walls. Fortunately there was a way to take care of that. Reaching as far as she could out into the Force, she pulled every scrap of power she could, concentrated it within her, and slammed it all down against the walkway she stood on.

There was a deep groan from the building, followed by the scream of metal tearing. The walkway tilted, and then dropped out from beneath her. As the entire structure collapsed in on itself and she fell through the air, Jerusha had just enough time to wonder how much the impact was going to hurt.

* * *

The answer was: a lot. Jerusha blinked, and immediately missed the freedom from sensation that came with being unconscious. At the moment it was manageable, a low thrum that radiated from various places on her body and overlapped to create a general halo of pain. But she could tell that any movement would send her nervous system into frenetic activity to remind her just how badly she'd injured herself.

There was a sudden sigh to her right. Jerusha flicked her glance that direction without moving her head to see Quinn kneeling beside her, head bowed. He looked up a moment later and gave her a tired smile. "Didn't lose you," he said softly.

She tensed, readying herself for the poking and prodding that always came with medical attention. While she knew it was for the best, it inevitably hurt. But she wasn't about to allow herself to so much as flinch. She might not have use of her limbs, but she did still have her pride. She tried to smile back at him, but even that faint motion was uncertain. "Of course not," she said, her voice sleep-rough. She wondered how long she'd been out. "I'm Sith, after all. It takes a lot to finish us off."

Gradually, she noticed how gentle his hands were as he applied the various ointments and stims and bandages. She let out a sigh as she let go of the tension she'd been clinging to, letting her form soften. It really wasn't bad. Actually … it felt kind of … nice. When he slipped an arm around her shoulders to prop her up, watching how her pupils reacted, she relaxed against him. "You know, you could have left me," she added.

His brows arched. "Is this where you claim that you didn't need any help and you would have been just fine on your own?"

Jerusha narrowed her eyes at him, which was as close to a glare as she could manage. It would have to do. "No, just …" She sighed again, this time from frustration. "You would've been safer," she muttered, which was as close as she was willing to get to apologizing for not keeping him safe.

Quinn chuffed out a not-quite-laugh. "That would not be much comfort compared to the knowledge that you … Well, at any rate, I wouldn't." He looked down at her again, his jaw set. "I won't leave you. So you can take that out of your strategies."

He hesitated then, but looked at her thoughtfully, like there was something else he wanted to say. Or - do? Jerusha suddenly had the wild thought that he might kiss her. The intensity of his gaze should have been chilling, but she felt quite warm and comfortable just then. Of course, the thought was completely ridiculous. She abruptly became aware of the silence, and felt her cheeks begin to burn. Perhaps she was supposed to say something. Oh dear. What had they been talking about? Oh! Leaving. Strategies. She attempted a smile. "I thought you were the one in charge of our strategies."

He smiled back at her, and when his eyes crinkled at the corners, she felt a little short of breath, though that was probably just due to her injuries. "I suppose you are right." He cleared his throat, then, carefully letting go of her and sitting up again. "Besides. Can you imagine Darth Baras congratulating me for returning from the mission, when you had not?"

Of course. That was a much more practical reason for not leaving her behind. And Quinn was always practical. It was a major reason he was so effective. One of his best qualities. It made no sense for her to be disappointed by it.

Briefly shaking his head, he looked back at her again, and added, "Or Vette. Gracious. I think I might be more afraid of her reaction than his." One corner of his mouth pulled up even further.

Jerusha smiled a little wistfully, realizing that the moment (if there had even been one) had passed. "She is indeed a formidable opponent."

Still watching her carefully, Quinn stood. "While I am glad to see that your injuries have not damaged your sense of humor, I would suggest that we head back to the ship, rather than continue ahead. You will be more effective once you have rested."

Before her body could protest, Jerusha pushed herself upright. It hurt, but not as much as she'd expected. "I'll admit, I'm not particularly excited about the thought of sticking around here. And I would really, really enjoy a long, hot shower."

Was it her imagination? Or was Quinn actually blushing? But he simply nodded once, briefly, and they walked silently back to the speeder.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Augh, it's both fascinating and infuriating to know what's going on underneath with these two. There's so much that they don't say, so much they refuse to reveal! I hope I set it up well enough that when things finally ARE revealed it feels like a final piece dropping into place to fit perfectly, rather than a surprise that comes out of left field and smacks you upside the head.

I love summer. I'm studying Portuguese using Duolingo, I'm in a musical at the community theater, I get to visit with friends and family, and I also have days (though not as many as I'd like) when I just stay home and don't talk to anybody. I like those days a LOT.

Hope things are going well with you, readers! Drop me a line and let me know what you're up to?


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